


A Lot of Heart

by sixappleseeds



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Gen, M/M, bff!anna, introverted!geno, non-hockey au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-11 23:30:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18434366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixappleseeds/pseuds/sixappleseeds
Summary: The day after they parted ways at the airport, Geno's still processing this new thing he has with Sid. Anna's a good friend





	A Lot of Heart

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to [Saturday Sun](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17479565), and takes place about twelve hours after that one ends
> 
> Title is from the song "Stars" by the Weepies

“Zhenya.” A hand on his brow, brushing back his hair. “Zhenya, go to bed.” 

He grumbled, and wiggled enough to send the hammock swinging, and kept his eyes firmly closed. His phone was still in his hand.

Anya sighed. He listened to her flip flops as she walked away, and then he listened to the wind, and the distant rumble that could be the ocean but was probably just traffic, crawling from red light to red light down the boulevard. Maybe he’d stay out here all night. Maybe he would. 

Then Anya was back, announcing herself first with those flip flops she only wore around the condo, and then with a blanket, surprisingly heavy, dumped unceremoniously across his lap. Zhenya grunted, and finally opened his eyes. 

She crawled into the hammock with him, had them both muttering curses as they maneuvered elbows and knees under the spreading blanket, until she was comfortable against Zhenya’s side. He supposed he had been a little chilly.

They rocked for a while in silence. The night air was a relief after the day’s swampy humidity and too-hot sun. Zhenya stared up at the palm trees spreading above them, illuminated by the fancy colored lights the landscapers had installed and swaying with the breeze. Somewhere beyond, he supposed, there were stars. 

Anya’s hair was still damp, spilling over Zhenya’s shoulder, and she smelled faintly floral. It was possible Zhenya had stayed out here for longer than he’d meant to. He shifted, curled an arm around her waist. “I’m being a bad guest,” he murmured. 

She ran her fingers over his other hand, and over the edges of his phone. “You told me you met someone.” 

He’d texted her on the plane this morning — was that only this morning? — and he had meant to talk to her once he arrived, but on impulse he’d ordered the taxi to drop him off at the beach first. Watching that sunrise had made him feel like both the luckiest and the loneliest man in the world. By the time Zhenya had actually gotten to Anya’s condo, tender around the edges and in desperate need of caffeine, both Sasha and Ilya were annoyingly awake and he’d had to fend them off instead. And then they’d all insisted on taking him out and showing him off — look who’s back in town, it’s our friend the scholar! Ah, we’d thought he’d died in some library up north, crushed under his books! 

The joke was only half-funny the first time Sasha had said it, cackling at himself. Zhenya hoped they wouldn’t meet anyone new tomorrow, if only so he wouldn’t have to hear it again.

One thing had led to another, as it always did with Zhenya’s friends, and now here it was, not even midnight and he was grumpy and falling asleep on the hammock like an old man.

But he had intended to tell Anya. 

Zhenya knew she’d sent Sasha and Ilya and their band of merry men away after dinner, when he was showing signs of flagging and they were showing signs of going out again. She’d shrugged in apology this morning, as he’d lugged his bags off the elevator and found her condo overrun with friends intent on making Zhenya a welcome home breakfast, and smiled again this afternoon, hapless, when Kuzy and the other Sasha found them at the poolside and set off another round of stupid jokes. 

Maybe Anya had also been waiting, all day, for the right time.

“I did meet someone,” he said, because it really couldn’t be overstated. Zhenya knew he was always falling in love — with a new song, or a book, or some especially adorable habit of Dixi’s. He loved Miami Beach, the sea breezes and the heat and the way the obscenely rich insisted on mood lighting for their palm trees. He loved Pittsburgh, with its bridges and dirt and frankly terrifying hills, and he loved his hometown, even if visiting now made him vaguely restless, and sad. 

Zhenya didn’t think he had ever told Anya that he’d _met someone_ , before. That was something people in movies said, it was cliche, and it carried a depth of meaning Zhenya wasn’t sure he was ready to plumb, yet. 

Anya was quiet. The hammock had rocked its way to a stop. Finally Zhenya sighed, only it came out as a kind of groan, like he was in pain. He unlocked his phone and handed it to her. “I took a lot of pictures,” he said. It would be easier just to have her look.

He watched as she scrolled up, found the pictures from the aquarium. She opened the first one with Sid. Zhenya made a little noise again.

“Hush,” she murmured. It was less an order than a word of comfort, and Zhenya pressed his mouth to Anya’s flower-scented hair. 

The picture was in front of the jellyfish exhibit. He’d taken one of Sid on Sid’s phone, and then one for himself. Sid was grinning in this one, looking surprised and a little bemused that Zhenya would want to take his picture, too. Anya studied it closely. Then she found the selfie they’d taken by the penguin habitat. A penguin was peering at them through the glass, and Zhenya was wearing his stupid-huge grin, while Sid ... Zhenya found himself hoping desperately that Anya liked the way Sid smiled. He didn’t know what he’d do if she didn’t. 

Slowly she scrolled through more photos of fish and birds and aquarium exhibits, until she came to their whale watching tour. She’d ask him about the whales later, he knew. For the moment, the picture they’d had taken on the boat, the one Zhenya had stared at yesterday as his plane took off and hadn’t been able to open since, held all of her attention.

“Oh Zhenya,” Anya sighed at last. She set down the phone and snuggled closer. “Tell me about him.” 

What could he say? Of course he’d tell her everything, but where to start? 

“He’s quiet,” Zhenya said. “He lets me be quiet.” 

It wasn’t what he’d thought he would say, wasn’t what he’d planned to tell her when he envisioned talking to Anya on his long flight last night, but it was also true. “This morning — no, yesterday morning, before I left — he just made us breakfast, and we were quiet together.” 

Of all of the moments Zhenya had replayed in his head, from his first glimpse of Sid on the trolley to the aquarium, to strolling with him along Cannery Roy, to seeing those stunning, magnificent whales together, it struck Zhenya now that the small times of silence they’d shared were perhaps the most profound. Sometimes it felt as though every one of Zhenya’s friends, except, of course, for Anya, knew the big, loud, fun-loving parts of him and thought that was all he was. They didn’t understand, or even clearly see, his need for quiet too. 

“Zhenya,” Anya said softly. She shifted to look at his face, and her eyes were smiling. The hammock rocked, and she leaned into it, sending it swinging again. “You’ve finally found him, haven’t you?”

From anyone else, this would’ve been a joke, some gentle teasing for the guy who fell in love with everything around him. From Anya, who’d known him since they’d both been lost sheep in their first university semesters, it was a kind, clear-eyed observation of a dear friend. 

Zhenya took a breath, tried to be soothed by the rocking hammock and the warmth of Anya next to him. He tried. But his belly twisted and his throat tightened and he was suddenly full of feelings that weren’t quite sad, but certainly weren’t joyful either. Zhenya covered his face with a hand, less to hide his tears from Anya and more because he didn’t want to feel her fingers brushing them away. “What if I’m wrong?” he whispered. “What if it’s not like this for him?”

How could it be? Zhenya had never met anyone who loved as enormously as he did — though he’d met plenty of people who’d thought he was strange for doing so. He’d learned the hard way to expect wariness from anyone who didn’t know him well. And of course Sid, beautiful Sid, really didn’t know Zhenya very well at all. A few magical days together — how could that be enough?

It wasn’t that Zhenya doubted Sid’s sincerity and affection while they’d been together. It was that he didn’t trust that it would last. Zhenya wondered wretchedly how long it would take before his own feelings started to fade. Years, probably. He wished he’d closed his eyes while Anya had looked at the pictures. He wished he could feel things casually, like everyone else. 

Just then his phone buzzed. Anya regarded the screen, and looked at Zhenya with a raised brow. “It’s for you,” she said.

Zhenya snatched at his phone, heart thumping.

He opened the photo, and held his phone so Anya could see too. It was a portrait of a tiny plush penguin sitting on a beach. The waves crashed artfully in the background, and the sky blazed orange.

 _That was for Instagram_ , Sid texted. _Feel free to follow me btw_

Anya immediately pulled out her own phone to look up Sid. Zhenya would do the same once he got over the idea of Sid watching the sun set right now on the opposite coast — of doing that and thinking of him.

Then Sid texted, _The next are for you...._

And Zhenya spent an agonizing fifteen seconds waiting for whatever Sid was sending to come through. Anya, meanwhile, was studying Sid’s Instagram with the attention of an investigative journalist. 

Finally his phone buzzed again. The first picture was of Sid’s feet, standing in the surf. He had round little toes, Zhenya was delighted to see. The second was goofy, Sid grinning at the camera and holding the penguin so it was perched on his shoulder. But the third —

“Ahh,” Anya murmured, adjusting Zhenya’s grip on his phone so she could see better. “Zhenya, I think you do not need to worry about these feelings being mutual.” 

Sid had turned so he faced the setting sun, washing his face in warm light. He was still smiling, true, but it was like he was thinking only of Zhenya when he snapped the picture, because while his mouth was bowed and his eyes crinkled, there was a gravity to his gaze that hit Zhenya like a punch. It was like yesterday morning, when Sid had asked if he could kiss Zhenya, and proceeded to engulf Zhenya like a rising tide. And it was like the day before that, when they’d seen the whales and Sid had looked so utterly alive, and he’d reached out and shared that alive-ness with Zhenya, and made it part of him, too. 

“The question now,” Anya said quietly. “Is what you’re going to do about this.” 

“I want to marry him, Anushka,” Zhenya whispered.

“Mmm.” Anya danced her fingers along Zhenya’s hand. “Yes, I think so. But do you have a ring? What kind do you think he would like?” 

Zhenya folded his hand around hers, humbled by how well this woman knew him. He thought he might always be trying, for the rest of his life, to be worthy of her friendship. “I don’t know yet,” he replied.

“Well.” She picked up his phone again, and they both gazed at the pictures Sid sent. “When you find out, then I think you should ask him.” Then she set Zhenya’s phone on his chest and hefted herself up, making the hammock lurch.

“For the moment, though, perhaps you should just text him back.” She rolled off the hammock, adjusted the blanket around Zhenya again, and smiled down at him. “Don’t fall asleep out here, darling. Your back will thank me in the morning.” 

Zhenya listened to the sound of her flip flops as she walked back to the condo. Traffic still rumbled in the distance, unless it really was the ocean waves. A sudden breeze made the palm trees sway, dancing around their pretty colors, and he swayed too, getting the hammock rocking again. His heart was still beating hard, like his body was convinced that Sid was right here. Zhenya shivered a little. Then he pulled down the blanket and stretched his arm above his head, so the selfie he took encompassed him and as much of the hammock as possible.

 _Want you sid_ , he sent. _Wish you right here_

The three dots popped up immediately, and Zhenya grinned. Then the dots disappeared. He waited. And waited some more, watched minutes tick past on his phone as the hammock slowed to a stop. He’d revealed too much, he knew it. He should’ve sent some quip instead, something cheeky and safe, because Sid was already thinking of their days together as a novelty, a fling on summer vacation. He was taking so long to reply because he was a fundamentally decent person who didn’t want to break Zhenya’s heart, but knew he was going to anyway. 

Zhenya was on the verge of tears again, on the verge of just flinging his phone across the lawn, when Sid finally replied.

 _Some quick research shows that one of these would probably fit on my apt’s balcony_ , he’d written. Zhenya clicked on the link he’d attached.

It was a webpage for hammocks.

Zhenya stuffed a corner of the blanket into his mouth and groaned. 

_Now wish I was there_ , he texted back before he could stop himself. _Wish for so much_

 _I can’t wait to see you again_ , Sid replied immediately. 

_You get hammock?_ Zhenya sent, because apparently he wasn’t wasting energy on impulse control tonight.

_Always kind of wanted one. No reason not to get a double eh?_

Zhenya bit down on the blanket. _Eh_. Christ, he was a goner. 

Then it occurred to him that maybe Sid was being just as cautious as he felt. He remembered the painstaking way Sid had asked if Zhenya was single, and how, the following morning, he’d looked crushed for a moment when Zhenya had described their day together as a little intense. 

It seemed like a silly thing to hope for, that Sid was worrying over the same things Zhenya was, that his heart was thumping as he texted too, but maybe it was true. 

_Yes get double_ , he replied at last. _Maybe triple? I’m tall, you wide, need big size for sure_

Sid sent back three laughing emojis, the kind with tears and huge grins. _For sure_ , he said. 

The breeze was picking up, and despite the blanket Zhenya was starting to feel a little cold. He hefted himself to his feet — if there was a dignified way to exit a hammock Zhenya hadn’t found it yet — and wiggled his toes in the springy, weed-free and perfectly green condo lawn. It was really too dark for a picture, but he tried anyway. The flash half-blinded him and made his face look corpselike, so he took another, making an effort to smile this time. It was a little better. He spent a minute fiddling with the highlights and contrast and color cast as his feet grew progressively colder. The grass, as it turned out, was pretty damp. 

_Okay bed time_ , he sent, along with the picture. _Hammock too cold for just one_

Zhenya really was chilly now, so he pocketed his phone before trudging back inside, the blanket draped around him like a cape. Anya’s condo was on the seventh floor, and the mirrored elevator was stupid bright and smelled of someone else’s perfume. He scowled at his reflection. His pocket buzzed, but he gripped his phone and waited. This was no place for whatever Sid had sent. 

Anya had left a few lights on low, because she knew him best, and a bottle of water on the counter, because she loved him too. He abandoned the blanket on the sofa and took the water to his room, where his bags rested on the neatly-made bed and the curtains were drawn over the huge windows. Ordinarily Zhenya would’ve left the curtains closed, because the windows faced the beach and at this time of year the day was dawning by 6 AM — criminally early, in his opinion. But tonight he pulled them back.

As he crawled under the sheets, finally, it occurred to him that the last time he’d slept in a bed was with Sid. The plush penguin shared his pillow now. He let himself wonder, just for a moment, if his days of sleeping alone might match the number of days until he saw Sid again. Maybe they would.

 _Sleep well, Zhenya_ , Sid had texted. Zhenya made a noise and squeezed the little penguin in a hug. He’d never had stuffed animals, even as a child, but he thought he saw the merits now. The penguin regarded him wisely. It understood. 

_You too!!!_ Zhenya replied. _Happy dreams sid!!!_ And then, utterly unable to stop himself, he sent about a dozen hearts of all different colors, and a few whale and penguin emojis too. 

There was a pause. Zhenya pressed his face into the penguin and tried to decide if he needed to cry again.

 _Dream of me_ , Sid sent at last. He added a single red heart.

 _Best dreams of course_ , Zhenya replied, resorting to cheekiness to stop himself from just calling Sid and confessing all of his feelings right now. _Wake you up with sunrise pic too_ , he added.

 _I’ll look forward to it_ , Sid sent immediately. 

Zhenya sighed into his pillow, and kissed the penguin on its head. _Okay goodnight_ , he sent, and then he set his phone on the table by his bed and waited to fall asleep.

 

.

 

The bright new dawn blasted him in the face several hours later. Zhenya bared his teeth and flung himself over, head burrowed under the pillows. But there was something burrowed under him, now, an uncomfortable lump under his ribs. He squirmed, growled, yanked it out, and — 

The little penguin was squashed in his fist. “Sorry,” he murmured, releasing it. Then he paused, remembering, and groaned. Why couldn’t it have been a rainy morning? Zhenya rolled back over, squinting, and tried to summon up some of last night’s confidence as he reached for his phone. Sid had said he’d _look forward_ to Zhenya’s text. The thought of disappointing Sid was even worse than his doubts that Sid had been serious. 

Zhenya tucked the penguin under his chin, closed his eyes, and took a selfie. Then he took another because he’d completely missed his face the first time. Then another after that because he didn’t want Sid to see him _scowling_. Finally he managed something that looked kind of sleepy and rumpled, hopefully in an endearing way. The light was nice, Zhenya thought, and the penguin was cute. His hair was a disaster, but Sid had seen his bedhead before and hadn’t seemed to mind. 

_Sleeping in_ , he sent. _Have good day sid))))_

Then he hurtled out of bed, stumbled the four steps it took to reach the window, and closed the curtains. It was a beautiful day, and maybe it still would be when Zhenya woke up again, but he hadn’t been joking — he was sleeping in. 

His phone buzzed. 

_I wish I was there so ducking much_ , Sid texted

_*ducking_

_*fucking. fuck. autocorrect_

Zhenya grinned, but he was quickly approaching the point where, if he didn’t close his eyes soon, he would remain awake for good. Still —

_Aug 12 back_

_I’ll pick you up_ , Sid replied.

_Best))))))))_

Then, buoyed by a wave of contentment that felt like being warm, and safe, and deeply comfortable all at once, Zhenya cradled the little penguin against his chest, nestled into his pillows, and fell back asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comment if you liked it, comments keep me writing :D


End file.
